Holy Scripture
by ckmono
Summary: My take on how the Scripture of the Church of Martel, or the legend voiced at the beginning of the game, came to be. Important character relationships spoilers. Reviews and comments are greatly appreciated.


_**Disclaimer:** Tales of Symphonia does not belong to me. It belongs to Namco, Nintendo, and all the wonderful people who created it. I am merely borrowing._

**Author's Notes:** The story takes place roughly 3000 years before the game story starts.

**Warning:** **Important character relationships spoiled, read at your own risk.**

* * *

**Holy Scripture  
**

_In a time long since passed, there once stood a great tree, the source of all mana in the world. All was good, and there was peace aplenty. Men loved their wives, mothers loved their children, and children loved each other. The creator and guardian goddess, mother of all life, looked upon this and was content. The Great Tree flourished in her care, and so channeled its mana to the world._

_For a golden time, all was right. Then darkness befell the righteous, vanity befell the beautiful. A fire of power was stoked upon the wood of greed. A wildfire of war erupted, and no water could quench it. In the maelstrom, the winds reeked of ash and wind. The waters ran red and poisoned, the land suffocated by hate. In the land of Kharlan, the Great Tree was grieved, and fell slowly into decay._

_In the hellish darkness, a hero emerged through fire and water, borne on winds of power with the light of the Goddess. The war was ended, but the land was covered with the lifeless leaves of the Great Tree. Upon seeing this, the Hero agreed to sacrifice his life to take the Tree's place, and it was done, in the Holy Land of Kharlan._

_The Goddess was greatly grieved by the Hero's sacrifice, so much so that she fled back into the heavens, and there fell into a deep sleep. The Goddess left the angels with an edict:_

**_You must wake me, for if I should truly sleep, the World shall be utterly destroyed._**

_The angels watched over life in the Goddess' stead, laboring for her silent will. They bore the Chosen One, descended from the Hero's noble blood. The Chosen One shall ascend the Tower of Salvation, in the Holy Land of Kharlan, and shall behold heaven as they reach the skies. Thus, the Regeneration of the World shall begin._

* * *

He leaned back in the elegant wooden chair, stretching the taut muscles in his back, and flexed his sore fingers. Looking at the words before him, he allowed a small smile of satisfaction to grace his mouth. He would never understand why, after a thousand years of oral teaching, they would ask for a written record when they would fare perfectly well without it. He would never understand why Mithos -- no, never Mithos anymore, _Lord Yggdrasill_ -- insisted upon him writing it in the"Holy Language of the Angels". 

He was quite sure that anyone else on Dherris-Kharlan had better penmanship than him concerning the flowing script; Yuan certainly did. After all,he himself was only an inferior being, a pathetic human.

_Was_, his mind noted, and he chuckled silently; tried to do it out loud, but could not. The throbbing crystal on his hand, set into an elaborate crest, reminded him why not.

_Even as my heart refused sometimes to accept it, my intellect tells me repeatedly that I am no longer a human_, he inspected what he had written again. _I am one of the Four Grand Seraphim of Cruxis, the organization that guides this world. I am an angel of the Goddess Martel, sent to watch over the chosen, to make sure she does not stray from the path of regenerating the world; the path to offer her life and body to the Goddess Martel. This is the true meaning of the Regeneration of the World. It is a sacrificial rite to revive the Goddess and save the world, to bring peace and happiness upon all life._

_Is that not what you wanted?_

It was like a broken record; his excuse to explain such an ambitious endeavour to his human heart, his test for the worthiness of the chosen one.

His own sadistic punch line of the cruel joke Cruxis played on the people of the two worlds. Lord Yggdrasill rejoiced to see such pains. It was the pain of betrayal, of losing a loved one; his own pain, repaid tenfold in the formof retribution upon the world, of floating graves in the Tower of Salvation. Like the child he was in reality, the world quite literally revolved around him and his ideals and goals.

He shook his head, clearing the melancholy thoughts. It was useless to dwell on it, for they might yet succeed, and perhaps that special day might already be visible upon the horizon. Until then, they needed --

"Is the desk lamp so interesting to you? I have seen better carving."

He turned his auburn eyes away from the unblinking light of the lamp, looking up at long hair the color of sunlight on water seen from beneath its surface. The long bangs almost covered one blue eye, and both stared curiously at him.

He looked away as his friend took a seat beside him on the bed.

"Still can't talk?" His friend asked, playful mockery and sincere concern seeping through the tone.

Auburn met cerulean in a look that clearly said, _It is not my fault you are a half-elf and got used to it faster than this pathetic human, Yuan._

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you." Yuan said quietly, and for a few moments sat silently, staring at his friend's rust-red hair.

"Kratos..." Yuan began, but stopped when the silent man turned to face him. _Want something to eat or drink? You haven't eaten in days. You haven't gone out in days, even to check up on how the latest Chosen One is doing, or the Desians. You know how mad that brat will be. For Martel's sake, you haven't got a life, cooped up in this god-forsaken land._

The crystal on their hands silenced his tongue. Kratos smiled sadly, as if he knew Yuan's words. Yuan winced inwardly; _Martel would not want you like this_. _Martel didn't want it to be like this_.

**_It was never supposed to be like this_**.

Kratos must have caught the darkening of his eyes, in such a way that could only show that Yuan was thinking about his dearly beloved wife-to-be again.He waved a hand, catching Yuan's attention, and gestured silently to his desk. Yuan leaned forward, looking at Kratos questioningly. The silent man scribbled something on a spare piece of paper.

'Ah. The 'Holy Scripture'." Yuan smiled, "And I haven't even started on my inputs. Lord Yggdrasill will be most displeased." He joked.

Kratos rolled his eyes, took the writings, and thrust them at Yuan.

"Very well." Yuan answered simply, starting to read, "Quite a bit more detailed than that the priests tell them, don't you think? I would think that people could settle for just a few sentences in 'angel language'."

Kratos did not answer, and Yuan shrugged, his eyes drifting through the opening passages.

"Always putting the tree first. She would have lived in it if given the choice back then." Yuan commented quietly, and both he and Kratos frowned at how literally true the statement was, though in a most unnatural way.

"You are feeling poetic today?" Yuan teased. A hint of a smirk appeared on Kratos' stony face, and Yuan was relieved to see it.

"Indeed, you humans started the war." Yuan continued, "If not for your numbers the elves certainly would have overpowered you." Kratos nodded, pleased that Yuan had caught the symbolism; the silent human was quite adept at fire magic. The half-elf was more comfortable with the fluidity of water magic, though his specialty remained the crackling power of electricity. And Yuan was undoubtedly more elvish than human.

_And the wind reeked of ash and blood..._

Yuan did not voice his thoughts out loud, but the emotion that flashed across his eyes told Kratos that he understood that the wind stood for, knew who always loved wind magic the most. Now it was an obsessive typhoon that could not, and would not dissipate. The smell of ash and blood did not disappear.

"_Through fire and water_," Yuan smirked, "Well said, though I assume it refers more to his lineage? He certainly never listened to me when I tried to teach him any magic." He was answered with a small, somewhat sentimental smile from Kratos.

_But he did learn a few anyway, if only to ease Martel's worry. Whose worry will he listen to now, Yuan? Will he care at all?_

For the next few moments neither said anything. Kratos watched Yuan finish reading, watched him frown and his eyes move over the last passages again several times.

"How courageous of the hero," Yuan half-sneered, "I suppose he did take the place of the tree as the source of life, didn't he?"

_Indeed_, Kratos answered silently, staring out the window at the surreal scenery, _a source of life with a will of its own. A source of life that decides to whom it gives, and from whom it takes_.

"I think you have the order mixed up a bit. About the hero and the goddess." The half-elf continued.

Kratos shook his head, and scribbled four words, drawing equal signs between them.

Yuan glanced at them, and chuckled.

"It's all very muddled, isn't it?" Kratos nodded silently.

For neither of the siblings were more heroic than the other in the end for their sacrifice, each believing that it was for the best. And it was; Martel's loving soul now watched over the Seed, and Mithos' powers as Lord Yggdrasill aided his endeavor to save Martel and preserve a semblance of peace in the world. Somehow though, that was never enough. Martel was still one step away from death, and the dominant persona of "Lord Yggdrasill" was starting to kill Mithos the half-elf. Lord Yggdrasill and his powers were but frightening insights into the results of Martel's final departure, however miniscule the possibility. The true deaths of either sibling, physically or emotionally, would be the cause for the other. Mithos would not stay without Martel, and both Kratos and Yuan felt -- _knew_, Yuan would later say-- that Martel stayed because Mithos was still _there_, a true hero about to be sacrificed to a god of hell that bore his face.

"It is no holy edict," Yuan said bitterly, "But our own selfish plea."

A plea that Yuan and Kratos both hoped with all their hearts was a message from Martel and Mithos. It was Kratos' prayer as a teacher to _please, someone, anyone, bring the child back to the right path, because I know that somewhere, he isn't completely lost yet. Someone please bring his sister back so she can save us all, so we can be a family again._

_I wouldn't call your plea selfish_, Kratos thought, glancing at the half-elf as he started continuing Kratos' words, indeed writing with much more ease. _In fact, you have every right to pray for the salvation of your would-have-been wife and brother-in-law. The only problem was that your wife-to-be would have said it was her time, we should let her go. At this point in time, your brother-in-law to be probably wouldn't care for his own salvation as long as his sister could live._

"To behold heaven as they reach the skies." Yuan murmured, "If only they truly could, then the world will really be Regenerated." Kratos nodded to the night sky outside the window, ever-changing as Dherris-Kharlan streaked across the cosmos.

Just as Yuan lifted the pen from the papers, there came a knock at the door.

"Kratos? Thought I'd find you in here." Mithos the half-elf bounded in before either man could give him permission to, "Oh." He stopped for a moment upon seeing Yuan, "Hi." The older half-elf nodded in reply.

"Where've you been, Kratos? You weren't there at the Tower of Salvation." Mithos asked, his eyes slightly accusing. _It would have made things better if you were there_.

Kratos did not answer, but cast him an apologetic look.

"You still can't talk?" Mithos cocked his head to one side, "Hm, it shouldn't take that long, didn't for me or Yuan --"

"Mithos." Yuan interrupted, and Mithos glared annoyingly at him. He remained unperturbed. "Kratos was occupied with this, as was I." He handed Mithos the writings in his hands. Curiously, the young half-elf took it and began reading. Kratos and Yuan waited with baited breaths.

"...Who wrote the beginning?" Mithos asked, his voice curiously -- or intentionally -- neutral.

"Kratos." Yuan answered. Kratos nodded.

There was silence for a few moments as Mithos read it over again, slower.

"...It's really nice." He met Kratos' eyes with a bright smile, "This hides everything perfectly. You were always good with stories, Kratos. Well, never like sis was, but you know, right?"

Yuan tried to keep himself from exhaling too loudly in relief as Kratos nodded with a small smile that did not reach his auburn eyes. Mithos did not seem to catch it, and his dark-emerald eyes returned to the papers.

"Could I fix this?" He asked as he turned his back on Kratos and Yuan, walking towards the door, still reading.

"Go ahead. Bring it back to us when you're done." Yuan answered. Mithos' head turned slightly in a nod, and he disappeared out the door.

"For all his genius in developing angel evolutions through the Cruxis Crystals and the system of the two worlds, he's still a kid." Yuan commented, a small smirk on his face. Kratos nodded, his eyes turned towards the door.

_How I wish he did not jump the years and grow up too fast into Lord Yggdrasill. There might have been more hope if he didn't._

Kratos' eyes moved to the Crystal on the back of his hand again, and for the umpteenth time he wished that he refused Mithos' offer. As a human, life moved; there was no time to ponder might-have-been's, no time to dwell infinitely on the memories of Martel, no time to devise the cruel plan to resurrect her as they did now. Moments and opportunities passed too fast to stand still for regret. Time kept people from cheating, from righting the wrong moment, so that they may become stronger and better. Time made beautiful moments wondrous beyond telling, because they might only happen once. Such things were the brilliance in the symphony of life; things that made all humans, elves, and half-elves alike get out of bed in the morning, just to hear what it sounds like today.

And he knew, just as Yuan did, that it was what Martel would have said to them if she could see them now. Intimately connected, even when she lived, with the Great Tree, she revelled in life and all its glories.

"If you sit in here any longer you'll rot." Yuan said briskly, standing up, "Go somewhere. Luin. You always liked it there." Before Kratos could form some kind of silent response, Yuan exited.

After a moment, Kratos stood up as well, reaching for the bluish-purple cloak-like garment that hung on the back of his chair.

_How ironic. We are the conductors of the symphony of life_, Kratos thought as he walked slowly through the corridors towards the exit of Mithos' castle, _we hated how the music sounded, and we took control of it, weaving our memories again and again through the notes, pushing the music ever onwards to our liking. Yet we cannot bask in its beauty and wonders, because we are forever deaf to it even if we are forever part of it_._ There is, ultimately, no concept of 'life' for us._

_How much longer until the music fails because of our deafness? Before someone who can hear can truly save them all?_

_One thousand years and counting_, Kratos looked up at the changing skies as he strolled out of the castle gates, nodding to the angelic guards and their lifeless eyes. _I hope I do not have to wait too much longer_.

For a moment, he closed his eyes; like the human he was, like the Cruxis angel he had become, but still Kratos Aurion all the same, he prayed.

* * *

_Martel..._

_If you're still somewhere out there, find them. Find those who could hear life like you did, who could discover the tragic music behind the beautiful facade of the Holy Scripture, the Book of Regeneration._

_If not for my sake, then for Yuan, who still loves you above all else, who cannot truly move on even now because time cannot help him. Save Mithos from his obsession, from his death, from the moment he is stuck in. The moment one thousand years ago when you did not respond to his calls._

_Please._


End file.
